


Four Times They Took + The One Time They Gave

by ShaydyBusiness



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Domestic Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Gay as hell, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaydyBusiness/pseuds/ShaydyBusiness
Summary: In which Logan and Virgil take the expression, "what's yours is mine" a little too literally.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	Four Times They Took + The One Time They Gave

Virgil’s already speaking as he walks into the room and Logan is too exhausted to do anything but to make grabby-hands at his boyfriend from his desk chair. 

“L, I’m taking your- hi babe,” he murmurs, veering from his path to drop a kiss on Logan’s upturned forehead. “I’m taking your de Stijl sweater because it’s cold and my hoodie is in the laundry.” 

Logan gestures weakly in approval, yawning. “Not that you asked, but you have my permission.”

From near the closet, Virgil levels a grin over his shoulder that Logan can only describe as roguish. “Appreciate it, but I would’ve taken the sweater anyway.”

Logan sighs and turns away to clean his desk for the night, a fond smile tugging at his lips. 

Things have been good, lately. Really good. They’ve definitely passed what he has heard people refer to as the ‘honeymoon phase’ of a relationship, but nothing has changed. Logan is as hopelessly, foolishly in love with Virgil now as he was in mid-2017, if not more. 

He has never been very good with idioms, but Logan thinks he understands what it means when someone says that their ‘heart is full’.

“Hey, Logan?” Virgil calls, his amused voice breaking the reverie Logan has fallen into. “Care to explain what this is doing here?” 

Logan spins the chair around and finds Virgil holding up his old black-and-grey hoodie, an eyebrow raised. “Not particularly, no,” he says after a pause.

“You know I still need this, right?” Virgil asks. “For whenever Thomas puts me in a short video.” 

Logan walks past Virgil to grab his Christmas sweater from the closet. He trades it for the hoodie in one smooth move. “Well, I suppose I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to the idea of you borrowing it from time to time.” 

“ _ Borrow it? _ Did you just- It’s my hoodie!” Virgil laughs incredulously, eyes so soft with affection that Logan can’t bear to look. “I can _ not _ believe you just gave me permission to borrow my own hoodie.” 

“Not anymore. What’s yours is mine,” Logan retorts, less cheekily than he would’ve liked as Virgil pulls off his purple t-shirt. 

It’s nothing Logan hasn’t seen before but there’s something inexplicably tender about taunting his boyfriend as he prepares to turn in for the night, wearing Logan’s clothes and sleeping in Logan’s bed. 

Casual intimacy with Virgil still makes his heart race. 

Virgil wads up his t-shirt and tosses it at Logan’s face. He responds maturely by unbuttoning his own shirt and counter-striking with a bigger ball of fabric. 

Virgil falls back on the bed, laughing, hands raised defensively. The sight of him sends the air rushing out of Logan’s lungs so of course, he exacts his revenge by clambering onto the bed and kissing Virgil until they’re both breathless. 

Eventually, they slip under the sheets, barely an inch apart, limbs intertwining like they were made to slot together. Sleep catches up to them both and they drift off with content smiles, warm in their stolen clothes.

* * *

“I’m breaking up with you,” Logan declares in a monotone voice once he stops gaping. “No, no, I’m being absolutely serious right now,” he adds when Virgil’s only reaction is to chuckle and kiss his nose. “I did not let you into my room and bed only to be betrayed like this.”

Virgil hushes him, placing a finger on Logan’s lips. “Shh, you’re distracting me. Be quiet and let me admire the prettiest midnight skies I’ve ever seen.” 

Logan glances at the window behind Virgil. Sunlight streams in through the gaps in the blinds. “What- What are you talking about?” he asks, scowling with confusion. 

“Your  _ eyes,  _ dumbass.”

Logan promptly rolls them. "Well, if you're quite done-"

"I'm not."

"-I'd like my glasses back." he barrels on, disregarding Virgil's interruption and making a grab for the spectacles. 

"I said I wasn't done, L," Virgil responds gleefully, shaking with suppressed mirth as he holds the glasses further away. He pushes Logan's face into the pillow with his other hand, staring him down with comic intent. "Hold still and let me look at you at, babe."

Logan pushes his hands away and lunges for the glasses. Virgil fends him off effortlessly and he thinks that alright, trying to wrestle the literal embodiment of the fight-or-flight reflex may not be the brightest idea he’s ever had. 

Logan sighs and shifts away from where he’s half-sprawled across his boyfriend. Virgil’s wary gaze softens as Logan cups his jaw, thumb pressing down just so on his chin. His lips part and even after all this time, Logan is still in awe of how readily Virgil yields to him. 

“I love you,” Logan confesses breathlessly, head swimming with the sight of Virgil's silhouette in the muted morning light. He never stops thinking but at this moment, the beautiful man who has deigned to share his bed and his life is the sole subject of all his thoughts. “I love you so much.” 

There’s an expression on Virgil’s face that he can’t quite describe but it sends pleasant shivers down his back. Virgil tilts his chin to kiss Logan’s palm, excruciatingly gentle as he brushes his lips over Logan’s fingers. “I love you, too. So much.” 

Logan leans in, kissing the corner of his mouth. He caresses Virgil’s cheek and trails a hand down his chest, content to simply bask in their warm bed and the early sunshine. 

He’d really like his glasses back, though. 

Logan winds his arms around Virgil, lazily kissing along his jaw, down to his neck. Virgil hums in pleasure, eyes falling shut as Logan strokes circles on his back. He cards a hand through Logan's curls, arching his neck. 

He seems distracted enough. 

Logan slides his hand down Virgil's arm and makes a careful attempt to reclaim his glasses. Grey eyes snap open. Virgil dons a pretty little smirk as he says, “Come  _ on, _ Logan, you can’t honestly think I’m that naive-”

Logan groans in frustration and tries again to snatch his glasses back; Virgil giggles, rolling over to protect the stolen item-

-and rolls off their bed. 

Logan cautiously peeks over the edge of the mattress. “Are you alright, love?” 

His disgruntled boyfriend makes a muffled noise that Logan takes as an affirmative response. He rises up on one elbow and watches with amusement as Virgil tussles with his linen trappings. "You deserved that for committing larceny," Logan comments. 

"Watch your mouth, L," Virgil warns, sitting up. "I still have your glasses." 

"Not for long," Logan responds, trying to swing his legs off the bed, only to realize that he is somehow swaddled in blankets that effectively render his lower half immobile. 

Logan stares at the sheets in abject horror. He can't tell where any of them begin or end; it's figuratively going to take  _ forever  _ to get out of this mess.

"Hey, your vision isn't even that bad.”

Logan turns his attention back to Virgil, caught off-guard by the assertion. He blinks. The glasses now perch atop Virgil’s upturned nose. “How do I look?" he asks with a slight grin. "Nerdy?" 

_ Beautiful _ . 

Dark blue bed sheets pool around Virgil’s waist, offsetting his alabaster skin. Sunbeams slant in from the window, tracing bright stripes over his bare chest and turning his purple hair iridescent. The shadows that dance across his handsome features cast the planes and angles of his face into stark relief. Virgil’s eyes shine silver behind the black frames; he pushes his bangs back and it’s all too clear how bright and breathtaking his gaze is. 

Logan struggles to look away. He isn’t one to place stock in higher entities or the powers-that-be. However, there is no word but ‘divine’ that does justice to the way Virgil looks at that moment. 

“You are, objectively speaking, the most attractive person I have ever seen,” Logan says, vaguely aware that he sounds a little strangled. “I could potentially live a thousand lifetimes and never meet another quite like you.” 

Virgil stares at him for a beat, colour creeping up his pale cheeks. 

Then he drops his face into his hands, fingers sliding under the glasses to cover his eyes. “You can’t just  _ say _ things like that, Logan!” he exclaims, words muffled. 

Logan reaches over and neatly plucks his glasses away. “I only speak the truth,” he whispers when he has leaned in as far as he can from the bed. 

Virgil takes advantage of his proximity by pressing a quick, hard kiss on his mouth. By the time Logan cleans his glasses and puts them on, Virgil is on his feet, heading towards the ensuite. 

“Wait! Aren’t you going to assist with this?” Logan asks, gesturing frantically at the tangle of blankets around his legs. 

“I already did, Poindexter,” Virgil responds, casually stripping on the go. “I gave you your glasses back.”

“Falsehood, I retrieved them myself. Virge, help, I’m actually stuck- Pick up your clothes, you heathen!” 

“Sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” Virgil calls, blatantly ignoring Logan’s second demand as he strides into the bathroom. “Just like a cold shower is going to be very soon.” 

A moment later, he pops his head back around the doorway, smiling mischievously. “Although, if you’re quick about that-” Virgil waves a careless hand at the cocoon. “-I may be generous enough to share my hot water with you.” 

The door shuts behind him but doesn’t lock.

Logan heaves an aggrieved sigh and begins deliberating the most time-efficient way to free himself.

* * *

The door flies open and slams shut just as quickly. Logan doesn't need to look up to know who it is. 

"Do you remember, before we started dating, you actually used to knock before barging in?" Logan asks wistfully. "Good times."

"I have bigger problems right now, L," Virgil declares, leaning against the door. He directs a haunted stare at Logan. "Remus wants to  _ shave my teeth."  _

Logan barely manages to stifle a laugh. 

"Maybe if I hide in here long enough, he'll decide Roman's teeth look more appetizing," Virgil says desperately, bolting the door shut. "He won't mess with you, I think, so you're my bodyguard for now."

"That's nice," Logan comments, idly tapping his pen against his chin. "It's truly gratifying to learn that all you want from me in this relationship is protection." 

"Hang on, now, let’s not jump to conclusions here," Virgil drawls, coming to stand behind Logan’s chair. He drops a kiss on Logan’s curls and reaches over him to clean up the desk. “ I never said that's  _ all  _ I want from you.” 

"Excuse me, I was working!" Logan complains even as he leans back in his chair to make room. He knows that Virgil's real agenda has less to do with a healthy fear of Remus and more to do with getting Logan to take a break (and he can't help but smile at that), but he refuses to relent without at least putting up a token protest.

"Keyword: was," Virgil retorts, hopping up to sit on the desk. "Now, where were we?" he asks under his breath, cupping Logan's face in both hands. 

"I believe you were about to submit an itemized list of demands," Logan breathes as Virgil draws closer.

Logan lets his eyelids flutter shut, but Virgil suddenly stops, a frustrating few inches away. 

"Are you wearing chapstick?" Virgil asks, squinting. His eyes narrow. "Are you wearing  _ my _ chapstick?" 

Logan pulls away and turns his face to the side. "I will neither confirm nor deny your accusation," he says loftily, raising his chin. A pause, then he glances sidelong at Virgil. "If I am - and I'm not saying that I am - it's only because you don't use it, anyway." 

Virgil's bangs fall over his eyes as he ducks his head, laughing. "Jeez, L, just say that you think my lips are dry and flaky." 

Logan reaches up and steals a kiss. "Falsehood," he says simply. 

Virgil's cheeks turn pink. "That is definitely my chapstick, though," he claims. "Tastes like sugary purple chemicals." 

"Sugary purple chemicals?" Logan repeats, quirking an eyebrow. "Did you mean: grape?" 

"No, darl-Bing, I definitely did not," Virgil says heatedly. "You're out of your mind if you think that tastes anything like grape." 

Logan runs the tip of his tongue along the corner of his lips, amused by how Virgil immediately zeroes in on the action and swallows hard. 

"I still think it tastes like grape," Logan tells him in a low voice. "Perhaps you need to reevaluate." 

"Perhaps I do," Virgil murmurs and pulls him in. 

After several inconclusive experiments, they agree to disagree. However, as far as Logan is concerned, it's grape and Virgil is just wrong. 

He's certainly willing to conduct more tests in order to prove his point.

* * *

“No,” Virgil says, raising a finger before Logan can even open his mouth. “We are  _ not  _ having toast with Crofters for dinner.” 

“Breakfast foods are a social construct, Virgil,” Logan huffs, putting back the jar of Concord Grape. It's not his favourite flavour, obviously, but it would do just fine. “You’ve let society brainwash you into thinking that you can’t have fish for breakfast or scrambled eggs for dinner when, in the end-” he throws up his hands. “-it’s all just proteins, lipids, and carbohydrates.” 

“Bold words from the Side who’s always getting on Thomas’s case about his eating habits,” Virgil comments as he looks through the kitchen cabinets. 

“I know what I said - It is unwise to consume large meals right before bedtime. That’s why toast and Crofters would be ideal,” Logan says petulantly, crossing his arms. 

“I refuse to consider jam as dinner, L. Maybe there's frozen pizza,” Virgil mumbles, rooting through the fridge. “We've been eating wholesome, homemade food for too long, some reheated junk is exactly what- oh. Never mind." 

Logan peers over Virgil's shoulder curiously. It appears as though several fungi other than  _ Agaricus bisporus  _ have made their homes in the pie. He can't help but grimace. “I think it has been in there for over a year now. Do you think Remus would want it?” 

Virgil shrugs. “Dunno. I’ll leave it with his things, just in case,” he says and drops the pizza into the trash can. “Well, I guess I’m cooking. How does spaghetti sound to you?” 

“Sounds great. I can help!” 

Virgil scoffs. “No way, José-” 

“My name is Logan. You should know, you were-” 

“Just sit there and look pretty,” Virgil says sternly, waving at the breakfast bar. "I refuse to let Patton and the others come home to a burning kitchen." 

Logan obliges, scowling. 

“I’m certain I could cook if I tried,” he says conversationally, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “It can’t be all that different from a chemical experiment. All I need are clear, precise instructions.” 

“All you’re getting is me and edible food, though.” 

“And Crofters, if I have anything to say about it,” Logan mutters, groping around the underside of the table until he hears a click. A hinged panel falls open and he grabs his hidden jar of Logan’s Berry jam. It’s surprisingly light-

Logan gasps loudly. Virgil drops the pack of pasta he’s holding and spins around, eyes wide and startled. “What’s wrong, babe-” 

In response, Logan holds up the woefully empty jar, pure despondence dripping from his words as he says, “It’s gone.” 

Virgil blinks. His lips twitch.

“Roman,” he says, nodding sagely. “Definitely Roman. I can’t believe his audacity-” 

Logan narrows his eyes, figurative gears turning in his head. “Roman never sits at the breakfast bar. I highly doubt he knows that it has a secret compartment, or that I hide my jam there.”

“Well, he did design most of the Mind Palace,” Virgil says weakly, fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew.”

Logan glowers balefully. “It was you, wasn’t it?” 

It’s not really a question. 

Virgil shrugs, twisting his fingers together. Aggravatingly enough, he still seems to be holding back laughter. Logan takes a deep breath, winding up for an angry tirade, but then, suddenly, Virgil leans across the kitchen counter into his space. 

"It's named after you, L," Virgil purrs, eyes half-lidded. "You can't expect me to resist the taste." 

Oh. 

Oh, but his boyfriend is a flirtatious, conniving  _ prick. _

Before Logan can say anything, Virgil is grabbing his hand, walking backwards as he pulls Logan towards the pantry. "C'mon, I'll make it up to you." 

Logan shuts the door behind them and leans against it, arms crossed, unamused but interest piqued when Virgil bends over to search the last shelf of the pantry rack. 

A six-pack of Red Bull, three spice shakers, two coughing fits, and one bag of flour later, Virgil straightens up with a sheepish expression. "I could've sworn that Roman hid his Crofters here," he says.

Logan doesn't move but raises an eyebrow. "So you were going to steal from him to atone for stealing from me?" 

"It doesn't sound great when you put it that way," Virgil responds, rolling his eyes. "But yes." 

"You dragged me in here for nothing," Logan points out. 

Virgil's mouth opens, undoubtedly to fire off some snarky remark, but before he can, Logan crowds him against the wall, hands settling roughly on the crest of his hips. Surprise flashes in Virgil's eyes for a brief moment.

"If you wanted to get me alone in a small, dark, enclosed space," Logan whispers, holding Virgil’s increasingly intense stare. "All you had to do was ask." 

"I've been found out," Virgil drawls lazily, pulling Logan in by his necktie and resting their foreheads together. "I'm sorry for eating your jam. How can I make it up to you?" he breathes.

"I can think of a few ways," Logan murmurs and captures Virgil's lips in a heated kiss. 

Later, as Virgil fumbles with his tie, Logan thinks hazily that they should probably be making dinner instead. He doesn't remind Virgil, though. This definitely deserves more attention than pasta. 

Besides, the longer they take in here, the more likely they are to have toast and Crofters for dinner.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 should be up in a while! I wanted to post both parts together but the second chapter spiralled out of my control and is going to be longer than I anticipated, so I figured I might as well put the first chapter up. 
> 
> Comments mean the world to me so please leave validation on your way out!


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